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One sunny afternoon, a black First Order ship descends from the clouds.
Rey watches from her home, shaded from the heat but eclipsed by the dark shadow the enormous ship spills across the dunes. She chews her portion and squints at the spectacle of a visit from the First Order, already a rare sight on Jakku. They must be here to collect a bounty.
But who, she wonders? Certainly not her.
She licks her fingers and collects her staff. Maybe they have some work to be done—engine repairs or the like. She can ask for food as payment and keep it secured away in her home for the weeks of low finds in the old, hollow ships across the desert.
Rey wraps up to protect herself from the driving sand before she hops on her land speeder. They’re not looking for her, so why not go have a look?
———
Nima Outpost is oddly quiet. Rey stops just outside the shaded market and lifts her goggles, walking slowly toward a deep voice from somewhere within. Someone must have an issue with Unkar Pluto because she can hear him snarling and retorting back at the deep voice.
“I don’t know nothin’!” he spits. “No Force-sensitives here or I woulda told you as soon as I knew!”
Rey creeps closer and crouches behind a jewelry stall. Force-sensitives? Those are rare; almost dead throughout the galaxy. The First Order saw to that.
Beyond the stall, in the sunny center of the marketplace, she sees seven tall men dressed in black. Six stand in a semicircle behind the tallest, who is circling Unkar and watching him through a black-and-chrome helmet. Rey frowns at the sight. He gives her an uneasy feeling that she can’t quite place.
The man reaches back into his cape and withdraws a horrible, bloody red plasma weapon that snarls and crackles. A lightsaber?
His other six men lean on or adjust their own weapons, different axes and blasters and swords. Rey stares at them before her gaze shifts back to the lightsaber and the way it hums as the leader brings it to rest very close to Unkar’s throat. It snaps and buzzes and Unkar shudders.
“Are you saying your Supreme Leader is… mistaken?” the man asks. His voice is twisted from a vocoder, deep and frightening. “Do you think I make mistakes, Plutt?”
Rey’s eyes widen. Supreme Leader? Is he the Supreme Leader, or acting on Kylo Ren’s orders? Oh no. Oh no… She should go. Now.
One of the soldiers sighs, shifting, rattling his armor. She can see other aliens hovering around the fringes of the confrontation like she is, waiting for the pin to drop. No one dares moves a muscle.
“Kylo, permission to search?” the soldier asks, bored.
“There’s plenty of bounty here to make the trip worthwhile,” adds another. He turns in a slight circle. “Like that little Togruta over there.”
Someone takes off, and chaos descends.
Kylo slices off Unkar’s head entirely and shoves the bloody corpse to the ground with his boot. He turns, cape billowing behind him, and orders the remaining men to search for the mysterious Force-sensitive.
“Turn over every stone!” he shouts, as they’re already spreading out into the marketplace. “Search every rusted old Rebel and Empire ship; every speck on this wasteland of a planet—and bring them to me.”
Rey stumbles back and runs.
Her speeder is gone, taken by someone smart enough to run before the conflict began. Stormtroopers invade the market, overturning stalls and shooting those who try to run away from them in turn. Rey stumbles at an explosion not too far off and decides she needs to find a hiding spot. It won’t be safe to run out blindly into the desert.
She doubles back to the locked stall where Unkar keeps the portions. He lives somewhere underneath in a bunker like the evil mole he is and if she can get the door open, she’s sure it will be safe until the First Order leaves.
All around her is screaming and blaster fire. Rey scrambles over a burnt stall and rolls hard to her side, coming close to an even more horrifying scene than the bodies littering the desert sand. Her breath hitches and she stays stone still for a moment. Her stomach turns.
The soldier from the clearing has the Togruta he spotted bent over a countertop. She’s sobbing and clawing over it, struggling to escape, and Rey realizes with dread that he’s assaulting her. His gloves are on her hips and her leggings are down to her knees, and his own head is bent over her neck. He groans, hips thrusting erratically. He’s raping her.
“Stop!” she begs. “Stop!”
“Thought you could get away, hm?” His hands run up her stomach and he moves faster, and Rey finds she can’t look away. “Leave you something to remember me by.”
Horrified, Rey snatches her staff and takes two steps to violently slam the business end against the side of the soldier’s head. He snarls, stumbling back far enough for the Togruta to scramble away, and Rey bares her teeth and hurls all her weight into the next strike.
He collapses to the ground, unmoving.
“Th-Thank you!” the Togruta sobs, struggling to fix her leggings.
“Come on—I know a place to hide.”
Rey grabs her hand and they race off through the marketplace, now burning and destroyed from the Stormtroopers and soldiers. She sees Unkar’s stall and pulls her rescued friend to her front so she can pry the lock. She knows how, but Rey is no thief, even if she’s starving half to death.
Hands trembling, she manages to open the lock and usher the Togruta inside. She grasps the edges of the doorframe and nods toward the wooden hatch in the ground.
“That’s Unkar’s bunker,” Rey says. “Lock it behind you—I’ll knock three times if it’s me.” She raps on the durasteel. “Like this.”
“Where are you going?!”
Rey chews inside her cheek. Off to her demise, probably, but she can’t stand idly by while others are suffering.
“I have to see if more people need my help.” She draws back and shuts the gate. “Now go!”
The Togruta clambers inside.
Rey races back into the fray to find more aliens or humans who need help, and leads them back to the hidden bunker for safety or sends them that way. She saves close to a dozen, no more pinned by one of Kylo Ren’s Knights, but some with serious bloody wounds or amputations.
A couple are seared by heat and she knows those are specifically from the lightsaber. It’s awful. It smells like burnt meat.
She comes to a trinket stall in a far corner of the market with her staff brandished, calling softly to those who might be hiding. It’s dark here, hidden away from the rest of the stalls, concealed in shadow. She crouches to check one small spot that could hide a child—and hears a low hum.
Stiffening, Rey turns.
Kylo Ren stands about ten feet behind her with his lightsaber brandished. He has the same ominous miasma about him, tall, broad body concealed by the thick cape draped around his shoulders. The lightsaber crackles, spitting sparks on the sand as Rey slowly gets to her feet. He’s probably here to kill her.
She swallows, hardly daring to breathe as he starts toward her. Yes, he’s going to kill her, but at least she won’t die in vain.
“There isn’t a Force-sensitive here, your highness,” she says. “I’m only trying to help people caught in the crossfire.”
Kylo twirls his lightsaber—and it shuts off. He stows it in his cape, still advancing, and that leaves Rey the golden opportunity to fight with her staff.
She swings for his middle and straight down to his legs when he’s distracted. Kylo catches the end of her staff and rips it clean out of her grasp, hurling it across the marketplace and hitting a Stormtrooper in the process. He’s on Rey in the next few seconds and she only has her fists.
But he batters away her fists and shoves her into the stall, bending her over the edge like the Knight did to the Togruta. Rey throws an elbow back and screams but heavy weight drapes across her back and something else keeps her restrained where she is. His cold helmet brushes her temple, gloves working behind her to rip down her leggings until they tear.
“You’ve been a busy girl,” he murmurs. She hears clinking and bursts into tears, begging him to stop. “I’ve been watching you—and now I’m going to punish you.”
Rough gloves slip between her legs, stroking at first, then two fingers shove inside her. Rey coughs and sobs at the violent intrusion that’s not at all the way she touches herself when she’s alone in her ship. His fingers are thicker and the leather is cold and hard, and he’s not at all gentle. It’s just preamble. He’s just feeling what he’s going to be fucking.
Kylo grabs her hip, dragging her flush against him and his equally rough tunic. Blunt, hot pressure makes her scream louder until he covers her mouth, arching over her back. His breaths come a little quicker through the vocoder as he forces his cock inside her with a sharp jerk of his hips.
Rey jerks forward over the counter and squeezes her eyes shut. It’s acutely painful; like he’s stabbing her, and his slow draw back before he piles inside her again doesn’t help. He groans, reaching past her to grab the edge of the counter so he can force his way deeper. Skin stretches, taut from fear, but the Supreme Leader isn’t one to be denied.
“Shh.. shh.” His thrusts are languid in spite of them being in the middle of a war zone, surrounded by screaming and blood and suffering. He groans again, rhythmically pumping his hips, and the edge of the counter bites into Rey’s stomach. “You looked—so lovely, scurrying about like a little mouse. And so misbehaved—” His breath stifles as he sinks inside her completely, and Rey moans. “So disobedient.”
She closes her eyes and the sounds of conflict fade away, but she can hear him grunting, and the wet slap of their bodies coming together. Hers is accommodating him, stretching, growing slick with fluids so he doesn’t hurt her as much. It’s an odd sensation. Her belly feels full for the first time in her life but there’s no relief.
Kylo shudders, pace quickening. He grasps her hips and his helmet presses to the back of her head as he fucks her hard, pounding into her and punctuating soft breaths each time he does. Rey’s boots scrabble on the sand but she tries not to speak, even with her mouth uncovered.
“Will you defy me again?” he asks softly. His big hands slide up to hold her waist instead. “Or will you comply?”
She shakes her head, wincing. “No… no…”
“No what?”
“I—I’ll comply.”
He grinds into her and Rey feels his cock twitch. He must be close. His breaths are faster and he pushes her hips down in time with his thrusts.
“And will you interrupt one of my men enjoying the spoils of war?”
“He was raping her!” Rey hisses. She chokes on a sob, dropping her head. “I only—I only came to find work!”
“Did you?” Kylo slows, rolling his hips, clearly restraining himself. “Did you come to find work like a little sand rat gnawing for scraps?”
Rey nods, inconsolable. He groans and shivers. He likes it, she realizes: he likes the screaming and the chaos and the blood. It’s riled up him and his men.
“Go ahead,” he whispers. “Tell me you’re a sand rat.”
“I’m… I’m a sand rat.”
“Again.” He seizes hair hair, yanking hard. “Say it again.”
“I’m a sand r-rat!”
“And you like being fucked by your Supreme Leader, don’t you?”
“Please—please—”
Kylo slips a hand between her legs again, stroking the nub there, and it makes Rey choke. He grabs one of her wrists and bends her arm backwards to force her to touch it herself, an awkward angle, but one that doesn’t stop it from feeling good. His hand stays over hers while she stimulates herself.
He thrusts in shallow, short motions, still pulling her hair. “You’re going to come, aren’t you? Naughty little sand rat—did you only come here because you wanted to be fucked?”
Rey only manages a whimper. Her hips are moving on their own and she’s close; much closer than she thought she could get, given the circumstances. She closes her eyes and pushes back on Kylo’s cock. This is absolutely humiliating. She shouldn’t be able to climax from this.
“You’re my spoil of war,” he whispers. “You may even have the pleasure of sucking my cock later this evening.”
“Please—” Now she’s saying it for an entirely different reason. Rey bucks her hips and feels bruises blooming on the bones, but other fear lurks in the back of her mind. “Please don’t—inside me.”
He yanks her hair, sharp, punishing. “What did I say about compliance?”
“But… I can’t… I can’t have a b-baby.”
“No? Then why don’t you try begging me not to.”
She does: Rey pleads, higher and higher each time he snaps at her that he can’t hear her, until she climaxes. Her feet slip off the ground as Kylo pounds her hard into the edge of the counter, cursing and coming inside her like he begged him not to. She feels the warm rush of semen and throb of his cock, and she squirms as he finishes thrusting with a relieved sigh.
Kylo doesn’t withdraw. He rests his helmet on the side of her head and Rey feels his essence slowly drifting from her ravaged body.
“Don’t worry, little one.” His voice lowers as she begins to cry. “Think of a baby as something to remember me by.”
Then he slips away, freeing Rey from the counter. She stumbles and keeps crying from the pain and humiliation, robes ruined, blood and semen dripping down her thighs. Kylo divests her of the rest of her clothes and uses the soft edge of her robes to wipe the mixture from her legs.
He removes his cape and sweeps it around her shoulders. It’s heavy and warm and smells like blood and fire.
“Disobedience comes at a steep price, doesn’t it?” He gently frees her hair from the cape and brushes her cheek with a rough glove. “And what is your name, my little sand rat?”
“R-Rey. Rey.” She stares into the frightening chrome eyelet and her lower lip trembles. “What am I supposed to do if I’m… if I’m…?”
Kylo sweeps his fingers under her chin, grasping her jaw tenderly, the way Rey thinks a lover might. He clicks his tongue.
“Ah ah,” he chastises, “not so soon, Rey. Not so soon.” He tugs roughly and she teeters forward a step, met with his cold helmet. “I’m not through punishing you yet. There will be plenty more opportunities to worry about pregnancy.”
Terrified, Rey shakes her head and tries pulling away from his grip. She can’t possibly take anymore of this. But Kylo sighs and drags her back, yanking her upper arm, ignoring her begging and screaming. He throws her over his thick shoulder and takes his lightsaber so it’s out of her reach.
They start towards the clearing, where she sees the Knights have collected with their own battered ‘spoils.’ The sun is setting in more ways than one, and all Rey can do is scream.